Sleeping Without Her
by FinnFiona
Summary: They lived a full life, but Ron's heart ticks on the longest. Companion piece to "First and Last," as well as "Going" and "As Before, and Never Again," though can be read independently.


**Author's Note: Okay, I lied—I will get to Seconds next, but I got completely sidetracked by this idea that I've really wanted to do for a long time. Steph—it's your fault—but this one is for you, with my gratitude.**

"Well… we'll see you next week," Ron said softly into the darkening graveyard as he wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders. She smiled faintly as she ran her worn and wrinkled hand over each cold stone they walked by.

"I miss them all," she said faintly. "I can't believe it's been three years since…"

Ron nodded silently. Hermione didn't need to finish that thought—he could hardly believe it either. Three years since Harry had left them. Three years since they had been left to bring up the rear of an entire generation. And it seemed to be a losing battle.

Perhaps the only one they'd ever truly lost.

"At least we have each other," Ron said finally. The phrase felt worn out to him now, having said it so many times. It was true, of course. Godric, it was so true. But Ron had said goodbye to his entire family. That couldn't be reasoned away entirely.

Hermione nodded, a single tear drifting down her cheek. Ron brushed it away silently.

He hated to see her cry.

* * *

Crawling into bed that night, Ron felt Hermione shiver. He pulled her close to him, as he likely would have done anyway, and kissed her gently behind her ear. "Are you cold, love?" he asked quietly.

"Just a chill," she said, snuggling into him and pulling his long arms—now covered with sun-spots as much as freckles—to her chest.

Something in Ron didn't quite believe her. "What do you think Hugo and Rose and everyone would like for dinner, tomorrow?" he asked instead.

"The little ones like your trifle quite a lot," she answered, but Ron could tell her mind was somewhere else. There wasn't much he couldn't tell after these many long years. Truth be told, he'd stopped counting them—which Hermione still didn't forgive him for.

Hermione shifted so that she was facing him now, but stayed ever so close. "We've had a long life, haven't we?"

Ron would have liked to say he didn't know where this was coming from, but his heart was begging to tell him otherwise. "Yes," he answered quietly.

"A good one?" she asked, eyes boring into his.

"A great one," he replied.

Hermione sighed deeply before smiling warmly up at him. "I love you," she said simply, but with a fervent intensity that arrested Ron's breath in his lungs.

"I love you," he managed to choke out before kissing her gently.

When they broke apart, she was the one to wipe the tear from his eye. Ron had to smile. She, too, hated to see him cry.

That night, as on every other night, they fell asleep nestled in each other's arms. Ron couldn't imagine it any other way.

* * *

Ron woke early to the sound of restless birds and rustling branches. He looked out the sun-filled window to a beautiful sky beyond. It was that crystal clear color that always caused Hermione to laughingly push him out of bed for a comparison with his own blue eyes. She said those days were her favorite days, because no matter where she went, she could see him everywhere.

"Hermione," he whispered lovingly, "it's a sky day."

Ron looked down when she didn't respond. If that terrifying expedition so many years before hadn't done it, children—not to mention grandchildren—had turned her into a perpetually light sleeper.

"Hermione," he said again, a bit louder. "Hermione—I… Merlin, you're cold," he breathed in concern as his senses came fully alive.

Ron pulled back slightly as his eyes traveled over her pale face, her closed eyes, her lips set in the faintest hint of a smile.

"Hermione…" he said again, his voice weak, "Hermione please wake up—you're… you're scaring me, love."

Ron extracted himself from her embrace, shuddering as her arms fell limply on the mattress. He shook her, ever more forcefully, hardly knowing what he was doing. He watched for her chest to rise. He listened for her breathing. He even checked for a pulse.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but the salty tears flowing rivers down the valleys of his aged, disbelieving face.

* * *

"Dad…?" came a shaking voice from across the crowded hospital ward. It belonged to his daughter; Ron could tell without even looking up. He doubted whether he could see her properly anyway through his blurred vision.

Ron was thankful for the many days of joy and happiness that had filled their lives, but today... Today, Ron couldn't seem to stop crying. It had occurred to him fleetingly that though he'd shed his share of tears over the many years of loss and heartache, maybe he'd only been able to stop them eventually because _she_ was there. She was always there to hold him up.

And now she…

He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought.

Ron felt his daughter's strong arms wrap themselves around his shaking shoulders. He clutched her to him fiercely as he had when she was a child.

"I'm so sorry, Rosie," he mumbled into her hair. Hair that was so much like her mother's…

"Oh, Dad…" she said, pulling back momentarily to look upon him with tearstained cheeks. "You'll never stop thinking of us first, will you?"

Ron just shook his head and continued to sob.

* * *

Ron found himself on the freshly churned earth that was reserved for them a few nights later. He was frowning at the dusty soil, irrationally angry at the grass for not growing yet. She loved—had loved—that smell.

"Uncle Ron…?" a tentative voice called out. Ron turned to see his nephew walking slowly toward him, leaning heavily on a wooden cane.

"You're getting old, Al," Ron said with great effort.

Albus smiled—his mother's smile up to his father's eyes. Ron felt his knees weaken.

"I don't think it would surprise you too much to know that you and Aunt Hermione were always my favorite aunt and uncle…?" Albus ventured, ignoring Ron's comment.

Ron just swallowed hard and stared at him.

"I loved them all, of course," Albus said quietly, looking around him. "But… Teddy and I were talking today, and… I… we… you've always looked out for us… almost like…" and here Albus had to stop to collect himself. Ron looked away momentarily, cursing inwardly as the hot sting started prickling behind his own eyes.

"When Mum and Dad were gone," Al went on bravely though his voice was quaking, "for James and Lily and me, having you around was almost like having… like having…" but he couldn't finish, and buried his face in his hands.

Ron stood for a moment, unable to move. But instinct took over as he reached for his nephew, pulling him into his arms. "Her—Hermione was so, pr-proud of you," Ron stuttered, biting back fresh tears. "She always thought of you as a son. So—so do I."

Al nodded into his shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered. "I'm sorry to make you…" he said guiltily, pulling back.

"Don't be," Ron said heavily though he squeezed his shoulder with sincerity. He could hear Hermione's voice in his head—_you wouldn't be you if you didn't try and take care of everyone_. She'd said it so many times before.

Albus nodded and smiled weakly before Disapparating away, leaving Ron alone once more.

Ron gave in then, sinking to the dirt with a thud.

_You wouldn't be you…_

"I know," his voice carried into the wind, "but I don't think I'm me without you…"

* * *

Ron shifted uncomfortably. Tonight he was trying the kitchen table, and it wasn't so good on his back.

Every night for the past week had found Ron tossing and turning in a different point of the house. But he couldn't sleep.

Not without her.

He'd tried the bed, of course, be he hadn't lasted a full minute before he was clutching at her pillow, bawling like a baby.

So that was out.

Hugo had tried to make him stay at his house when he saw his father wasn't sleeping. But Ron didn't want to leave this place.

Not when she wouldn't be there to welcome him home.

But no matter what he tried, it didn't seem to help. Even a sleeping draught only worked for an hour or so. It was as though his addled brain seemed to know that something was fundamentally wrong. Potions couldn't fix this, after all. Books couldn't fix everything…

Ron sighed. There was nothing for it.

He padded to his room—their room—to find trainers and a cloak.

He Apparated to the edge of the cemetery; a place he'd grown to know far too well for his own liking. He walked the familiar path along the row of marble, saying hello to all of the familiar names. He paused momentarily at the rough-hewn stone that lay just before his destination.

Seeing his best friend's name there, next to his baby sister's, still made Ron bite his lip—even after the months and years. He placed a weathered hand over the names. "Take care of her until I'm there, all right?" he said softly. "I'll… I'll look after everyone here as long… as long as I can."

A warm, summer breeze stirred the air, stirring Ron's hair from his temples. It was almost like feeling her touch.

But not close enough.

With a sigh, Ron made himself turn to that last grave. Coming to stand before it, he made himself look down. The name he found there brought him to his knees.

"I can't sleep," he said quietly. "And it's all your fault, you know," he added with a half-hearted attempt at the sarcasm they'd often found so natural.

Ron sat in silence for a moment, kneading his fingers into the ground. "I... I'd say I miss you," he said at last. "But I don't think that's a strong enough word. I think… I think I'm lost. Nothing feels right anymore. Nothing feels like anything worthwhile—not without you."

Another light gust of wind blew across his shoulders.

Ron felt his strength leave him as the exhaustion set in. "I could never be close enough," he cried as he lowered himself to the ground.

The gentle wind was his only answer.

And Ron slept.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading. I'm thinking I may do Ron eventually—and maybe even go back and do Ginny… If anyone would be interested in reading either one, please let me know. And please leave a **_**review**_**, I do so appreciate it.**

* * *


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